


House of Pain

by keylimepie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels Being Assholes (Good Omens), Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is a protective badass, Demons Are Assholes, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Drama, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Lack of Communication, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-10-24 23:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: When Crowley suggests a spur of the moment vacation, Aziraphale senses there's something odd about it. But what is it that Crowley is being so secretive about? Is he hiding something that will threaten their newly blossoming marriage? One thing is for sure, things are about to change for them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom, after obsessing about it all summer! Yay!

It had been three months since the apocalypse had been averted and Aziraphale and Crowley had escaped punishment by donning each other's bodies, and two months and twenty-eight days since Crowley had packed up his flat and moved his things into the rooms above the bookshop in Soho. The plants were enjoying the change of scenery, in the bright front windows of the parlor. The artwork had been hung on the walls of the parlor and bedroom and hallways, wherever there was an empty spot. The sculptures had been tucked into various nooks and corners throughout the bookstore, though Aziraphale kept moving the statue of Good and Evil Wrestling into the storage room “for space reasons.” The ornate throne had acquired a spot near Aziraphale’s desk, and Crowley spent hours lounging on it dramatically while the angel read or did his books or dealt with customers. 

After so many centuries of missing each other most of the time, now they were together nearly always, by day in the bookshop or out for strolls or meals or entertainment, and by night as they held each other close in Crowley's big luxurious bed and made love without shame or fear. Indeed, they had been very clear with their words, for a change. They were in love, they were married (in their own eyes anyway; with what authority would they register such a sentiment?), and they were irrevocably on their own side. Eternity was looking pretty good. 

It was an evening like most others. They'd been out for sushi, then a play, a nice funny one that had put Crowley in an excellent mood. Now they were preparing for bed - Crowley stripping bare and strewing his clothes about, Aziraphale carefully hanging up his clothing and pulling on striped pajamas and a pointy nightcap. 

"I don't know why you bother," Crowley said, standing there in all his naked glory and smirking at him. "I'll have those off you in five minutes flat." 

"I'm counting on it, my dearest," Aziraphale said with a mischievous twinkle. He slid beneath the sheets and folded his hands carefully in front of him. "Well go on, then. Seduce me." 

Crowley stretched, arms extended above his head, then twisted this way and that for good measure, all with an air of nonchalance. Aziraphale sighed dreamily as he watched his husband sway; he couldn't disguise his interest in this performance. Crowley was running his hands over his own body, caressing all those planes and angles that Aziraphale so loved to touch. Aziraphale licked his lips. 

"Come let me do that," he suggested softly, and Crowley crawled over him on the bed and kissed him soundly. This was getting good, he could feel the heat of his body even through all the cloth between them and he made a little whimpering sound, which Crowley answered with an intrigued moan. He was shifting away the comforter from between them as Crowley opened the first button of his pajama top when the jangle of Crowley's mobile ringing broke into their soft noises. 

"Blast it," Crowley muttered against Aziraphale's throat. "Hold that thought, angel." He sat back and scrambled for it on the nightstand. A look of surprise crossed his face as he answered it while slithering out of bed and strolling down the hallway. 

Aziraphale fretted. Could it be Hell? They'd tried asking him to do some more work for them, come back as a consultant, but he'd dithered and not really given much of an answer. He’d not been keen on the idea and Aziraphale was emphatically against it. Perhaps they were bothering him again. But still, Aziraphale didn’t get the impression that that was what this call was about. 

Crowley came back a short time later, his face creased in a troubled scowl. He sat on the edge of the bed. 

"Is something wrong, my love?" Aziraphale asked, sitting up to rub at his shoulders. 

"Nah. No, no, its uh… well I want us to go on a holiday. " 

"A holiday?" Aziraphale repeated in confusion. 

"Yeah, yeah. Nice relaxing vacay. By the beach! That was my… travel agent. She's found us a lovely accommodation. Got the flight tickets and all that. Everything’s sorted.” 

"Flight? On a plane? What beach were you thinking of, then?" 

"Oh, erm. Exotic foreign locales. America. Fancy seeing the new world, angel? We're going to New Jersey." 

Aziraphale blinked. “If that’s what you want to do, darling. I have no particular interest but I’m sure I’ll enjoy doing whatever it is you’d like to do. Sea bathing? Building sand castles? Sunset strolls?” Now that he thought about it, there were many romantic films that featured beach scenes. It’s possible some of them could have happened in New Jersey. This could be a very nice trip, after all. “When did you expect to leave? We’ve got theater tickets for Thursday night.” 

“Yeeeaaah, flight’s at 6:30 tomorrow morning, sorry. Last minute deal, couldn’t pass it up. Ring Book Girl and give her the tickets. We’d better get to packing.” He slid off the bed and began rummaging in the closet and in the dresser drawers, tossing things haphazardly into a black leather suitcase. 

Aziraphale slid out of bed and followed suit, casting a sideways bemused glance at Crowley’s frantic, anxious packing. It was a strange start to a holiday, but he decided not to poke at it. If Crowley had something else going on in his head, something troubling him, maybe it was best to just wait until he decided to bring it up. Aziraphale carefully folded shirts and slacks and bathing costumes and tucked them into his large tartan suitcase. “If we pack quickly, perhaps we can get back to bed for a little while?” he said hopefully. Crowley was still starkers and it was, well, very distracting. 

Crowley glanced up at him with a naughty grin. “Oh yes, I’m sure we’ll have a bit of time to finish what we’ve started. And if not, there’s always on the plane.” 

They ended up having a spare hour to make a hasty but satisfying end to their amorous evening, plus a quick and somewhat uncomfortable experience in the airplane loo. Afterward they both agreed that their next attempt at the Mile High club had better involve using their wings in the open skies. Still, it was good that they started this holiday on such a loving and sensual note, seeing how quickly it all shifted. 


	2. Chapter 2

The taxi pulled up to the curb. It was a wide, lazy street, the sort where children rode their bicycles and people walked dogs on the neat sidewalks. The homes were large, and old, and had character. Most were Victorian in style and boasted large porches and gardens filled with flowers and interesting little archways or gazebos. A few even had fountains or statuary. And beyond it all, just in the distance you could catch a glimpse of the sun glinting off the sea. The sound of it and the salty smell was in the air everywhere. They were a short distance from the beach, a few blocks or so from where the boardwalk started, with all the hubbub and excitement there.This bed & breakfast featured seven guest rooms and an award winning breakfast menu, which had been a big selling point in choosing it. 

After checking in with the widow who ran the place, they each shouldered a few bags and climbed the carpeted stairs. The house was every bit as charming and Victorian on the inside, with dark floral wallpaper and oodles of intricate woodwork. Cheery framed pictures hung everywhere, pictures of happy children and frolicking dogs and lovely landscapes. 

Their room was spacious and smelled of lavender and gardenias. “Oh, lovely!” Aziraphale exclaimed as he set the bags down and hurried to open the French doors to the balcony. “Oh darling, look at this view!” 

Crowley cocked an eyebrow and looked out at the ocean below. “Yes, we can see the water from here,” he said. “Good, good. We can make sure it doesn’t go anywhere.” He had dropped into an armchair and was looking at his mobile again. 

“Oh come now, we’re on holiday, can’t you look at your ‘memes’ when we’re home?” Aziraphale chided. Crowley didn’t answer, just typed a bit then put the device back in his pocket. 

“I suppose we should see about dinner, then,” Crowley said. “Shall we try the Italian place? It’s supposed to be romantic.” He drew the word out almost mockingly, but he was watching Aziraphale’s face with a soft expression. 

“A romantic dinner with my dear husband sounds like just the thing,” Aziraphale agreed. He leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, and kissed him. He half expected Crowley to pull him into the chair and delay dinner for an hour or two, but he made no move to do so and Aziraphale broke the kiss off again, straightened up, and offered his arm. 

The restaurant was a pleasant stroll from the B&B. The sun had started to descend and the worst of the day’s heat was over, and people were milling around everywhere. It was nice to be a part of the crowd of tourists, and it was especially nice to feel the admiring gazes coming Crowley’s way and knowing that he, Aziraphale, had this handsome creature all to himself. He gazed at Crowley’s profile, the way the sun shone red and pink and orange around him, bathing him in a halo. He was beautiful and Aziraphale was utterly besotted. 

Dinner was just as delicious and romantic as they had hoped for. It was no evening at the Ritz, but the ambiance was slightly reminiscent of Tuscany, or at least what someone who’d seen a few films probably thought of Tuscany, and the wine was decent, and a violinist played softly in the corner. Crowley was charming and funny, and as they stumbled back toward their room more than a little tipsy, arms around each other’s waists, Aziraphale felt like the luckiest being in the universe. 

Back in the room they immediately began kissing and pulling clothes off. With the salty sea breeze drifting in the open window, they made love slowly and gently. In the end when they were tangled together and breathless, Crowley whispered “love you, Angel,” against his temple, followed by a soft kiss. 

Aziraphale had just opened his mouth to return the sentiment when the bloody mobile began ringing again. He thought that, given the circumstances, Crowley might let it go to voicemail, but instead he hurriedly disentangled, threw on a robe - Aziraphale’s robe - and took it out on the balcony to answer it. 

“Well,” Aziraphale tutted. “Can’t imagine what’s that urgent.” Of course he couldn’t imagine, could he? That was the problem. Crowley hardly ever used the thing and now there were two mysterious calls that sent him out of the room, out of earshot of the angel, within the span of 24 hours. After a brief internal struggle, he stood up and tiptoed across the room, nearer to the window to the balcony, where he could just, if he concentrated very hard, make out what Crowley was saying. 

“... told you I’d … look, I know, but I’m here now, aren’t I? … no, sweetheart, I couldn’t very well… you’d only to ask, at any time … tonight? Eeeuuugh, do you mean now? … no, no, s’fine. Can make it work. … right, I’ll be there as quick as I can. .. Love you.” 

Aziraphale stepped away from the window as the shock washed over him. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t! How could Crowley do such a thing? He sat down heavily on the bed and choked back the sobs. He scarcely looked up when Crowley came back into the room and began dressing. 

“Angel, I’ve got… well, something I need to go do.” 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale hollowly. 

“Mmhm. Now, I don’t want you to worry, it’s just a quick bit of… well, tying up loose ends.” 

“Loose ends,” Aziraphale repeated dully. 

Crowley was pulling on his shoes. “I’ll be back in a few. S’pose this’ll give you a chance to explore the bookshelves.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head. “Love you.” 

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said quietly as the demon ducked out the door and shut it behind him. He waited for the footsteps down the stairs before he burst into heartwrenching sobs. 


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale laid in the bed that was still warm from their lovemaking and cried piteously. Eventually, his sorrow gave way to anger. How could Crowley do this? Not only to stray, but that he would lie about it? That he would simply not tell Aziraphale that sad and awful truth, that he didn’t love him like he’d claimed to? Why would he just perpetuate some sort of… double life, meeting with some unknown ‘sweetheart’? 

Aziraphale wanted answers, and more than that, he wanted to see the creature that was so enchanting that they’d stolen Crowley’s heart from him. He rose from the bed and dressed himself, taking extra care, beyond even his usual fastidiousness. He knew that he was no radiant beauty, but he wanted to be sure that Crowley knew exactly what he was losing. Stoically, he made his way along the streets. 

The nightlife in this little seaside town was just as vibrant as the day had been. People were dressed to dance and drink the night away, in newfangled fashions that were quite bare on this unseasonably hot autumn evening. He didn’t concentrate on the crowd and spread blessings as he often did with the Soho sinners; he was too preoccupied following a faint trail of a demon, quickly before it dissipated into the sins of the crowd. 

He stood in front of a building where the trail dropped off suddenly. Crowley must be in this establishment. With the unremarkable name “Maddy’s” scrawled in neon above the glass and chrome doors. Aziraphale took a deep breath and steeled himself before pushing the door open and entering. 

It was quite ordinary as far as nightclubs went, he thought. Dimly lit, with multicolored lights on the walls and ceiling. Artificial fog wafted through the room, with the chilly breeze of the air conditioning. Loud, thumping music permeated the air. To his right, there was a long bar, with three bartenders behind it serving drinks to a neverending swarm of people. But Aziraphale only skimmed his eyes over this quickly. He scanned up and down the length of the bar and around the tables of the room and the small crowd of people on the dance floor, looking for tufts of red hair and dark glasses. And then he spotted him. There, up near the stage, seated at a small round table with an empty whiskey glass in front of him, Aziraphale could just see the back of Crowley’s head. And he was not alone. 

She was sitting beside him, turned so that Aziraphale could see her face in profile. She was absolutely lovely. Hair in thick auburn ringlets, much like Crowley’s had been when they’d first met. She wore a tight burgundy top, scooped low with plenty of cleavage peeking out, and a gold necklace with a ruby and diamond pendant winking in the light. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties. She was clutching at his Crowley’s arm, gazing at his Crowley like he was the whole world to her as she spoke animatedly to him. Aziraphale blinked back the tears and made his way toward them. Perhaps there was still room for this to be a misunderstanding, perhaps she was someone Crowley was leading on for some demonic mischief. Aziraphale couldn’t condone any such thing of course; he would be upset if Crowley had decided to work for Hell again, but he was desperate for this to be anything but what it seemed to be. And then it hit him. 

Love. Love washed over him as he drew closer to the pair. He was sensing love for this pretty young woman, coming from Crowley, and quite strongly too. Aziraphale felt his heart clench as though it would shrivel and die in his chest. He had to confront them; this had to be settled here and now or he would go mad. He stepped forward, standing opposite the young lady, and tapped his husband on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me,” he said formally. “Would you mind very much telling me what is going on?” He sounded petulant, he knew, but his chest felt too tight to sound as commanding as he’d wanted. “I rather think that you owe me an explanation.” Crowley turned his head and gaped at him, and he stared at Crowley, with only a glance toward the woman. She looked surprised; it was possible the poor dear had no idea what she was meddling in. Had Crowley claimed to be unattached? Did he tempt this young thing into this dirty business? But no, now that Aziraphale could sense her more closely, something did not seem quite right about her. He wasn’t sure why exactly. And after her initial shock, she reached forward and put her hand on Crowley’s other shoulder and fixed Aziraphale with a sly smile. 

“I think you’ll find that you want to leave us to our business, buddy,” she said. Her eyes were a light brown, the color of honeyed whiskey, and they were quite compelling indeed, but Aziraphale was not swayed. She studied him then added. “You should get a table and peruse the menu. Have a nice dinner. Dessert. Leave us be.” 

“I’ll do no such thing!” he said, anger bubbling up. “Crowley, what is the meaning of this?” He racked his brain trying to think of what people did in films in these sorts of situations, while Crowley sputtered out a string of nonsense that was nowhere near an explanation or an apology. He recalled a few movie scenes with a woman slapping her lover across the face. Aziraphale recoiled at the thought. He was angry and hurt, more deeply than he’d ever been before, but he couldn't raise a hand to Crowley. 

Still, surely he deserved something for all this. Rude words, embarrassment perhaps - ahh, that was it! Yes, he’d seen emotional scenes where someone got a drink dashed in their face by a heartbroken lover. It was startling and embarrassing, but not as heinous as striking someone. Well, Crowley’s drink was empty and the harlot - er, the young lady - had nothing in front of her. And Crowley was still burbling ridiculously, looking back and forth between his husband and his young woman, and Aziraphale very much wanted him to shut up if he wasn’t even going to say anything. He quickly grabbed a glass off the nearest table and threw the contents in Crowley’s face. 

Ordinarily when this was done in films, the drink was something like clear spirits or white wine. But the drinker at the table next to Crowley’s had been enjoying her seaside holiday in New Jersey in spite of not being able to afford the Bahamas as she’d really wanted to, and so she’d ordered a drink that made her feel a little more tropical. It featured some sort of blueish-green liquors, blended up with ice and fruit juices, and garnished with a pineapple stick and a festive paper umbrella. Thus, blueish-green ice covered Crowley’s face, dripped and melted down onto his shirt. The pineapple slid across the puddle on the table, and the paper umbrella was plastered to Crowley’s cheek. 

“Angel,” Crowley said, quite calmly for a man covered in frozen tropical drink. He wiped his fingers across his glasses - too risky to take them off and wipe them in here, especially with everyone in the vicinity now staring at them. “I would like you to meet Madeline. Maddy, sweetheart, this is my angel. Husband. It’s Aziraphale, actually, you remember I told you about my friend Aziraphale, the one with the bookshop? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, that we’re together now. Was working my way toward that.” 

The girl made a surprised but delighted face, and held out her hand toward Aziraphale. He stared at it in disgust. “Maddy’s, uh. She’s m’daughter,” Crowley said, wiping his face with his sleeve and almost obscuring the words. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, but we're going to earn that E rating and we get a lovely cliffhanger, so, you know, it's kind of a lot.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “D-daughter? You have a daughter?” 

“Yes, that’s right,” Crowley said. “Look, can we do the whole melodrama thing somewhere private? Maddy, do you have an office?” 

Aziraphale was still staring at the girl. “Oh good lord, she even looks like you,” he blurted as it suddenly clicked. 

“I’m much prettier,” Madeline corrected him. 

Crowley made a vague noise of agreement. “So, office?” 

“I do but it’s. It’s occupied,” she said. 

“Your office is occupied?” Crowley said with a frown. “It’s your office, in your club, who would be in it?” 

“Uh,” she said. “There’s. Um. Well, fuck it, guess we should... Yeah okay let’s go to my office.” She stood up abruptly and started stalking toward the doorway behind the bar. Crowley and Aziraphale followed behind her, a little more slowly. 

“You really thought I was having an affair?” Crowley muttered to Aziraphale. They walked shoulder to shoulder. “You really thought that I would.” 

“I didn’t want to believe it but I couldn’t make any other sense of things,” Aziraphale said in distress. “I am so sorry. And so glad to be wrong. Oh my dearest. Why did you never tell me that you had a child?” 

Crowley didn’t answer, but he brushed his knuckles against Aziraphale’s. The angel breathed a little easier. They’d be alright. There was so much to talk about, but they’d get through it. 

“You own this establishment?” Aziraphale said to Madeline when she paused to yank open yet another doorway. The place was like an elaborate maze of twists and turns, perhaps designed to make it complicated for anyone who didn’t belong in the non-public areas to commit robberies or worse. 

“Yeah, it’s mine. Long story,” she said over her shoulder. She led them down a corridor, past the kitchen, and opened a door at the end of it. “Heads up!” she called into the room as the door swung open. “We have company.” 

The office was large, although not particularly glamorous compared to the rest of the bar. It was carpeted in beige and the walls were painted a soft blue. There were several paintings on one wall, another wall featured framed photographs, and there was a large desk in the corner between. There was a television at the far end of the room, with some sort of video game playing on it. Two people with controllers were sprawled on the floor in front of it. They both glanced up, then back toward the screen. 

“Pause it!” Madeline said. “We have company.” 

The one on the right heaved a sigh. “We can’t pause, it’ll-” 

“PAUSE IT!” Maddy shouted. 

Aziraphale jumped. “She sounds like you with your plants,” he murmured to Crowley. But Crowley was staring at the two people - young people, Aziraphale noted, perhaps a year or two older than Adam Young and his friends. And they were quite identical; he could scarcely see any differences in their appearance. Round faces, brown eyes, dark blond hair with a hint of red, all floppy on top and shorn in the back. 

They were grumbling and making faces, but they’d paused the game and were standing up, approaching the newcomers. 

“Hello,” said Aziraphale cheerfully with a little wave. 

“Wot,” Crowley said, staring between the children and Maddy. 

“Um, yeah. So. These are my kids. Kids this is-” 

“Holy shit, it’s Grandpa, isn’t it?” said one of them. The kids exchanged a look. 

“You have _children_?” Crowley spluttered. 

Madeline bristled “Yes, and I don’t see why you think you’d get a say in that. When you miss sixteen years of a person’s life, you miss a lot.” 

“Madeline, you know- you know why that’s-” 

“Such a blessing!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Oh my word! Having a family. Having little ones - well I suppose you’re not so little now, but still.” He beamed at them. “Twins, are you? What are you called?” 

“Who’s this guy?” one of the kids said warily. 

“Kids! I can’t believe you- and you didn’t think that might be, oh I dunno, important information I should have had?” Crowley said. 

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale said softly, placing a hand on his forearm, before turning to address the children. “I’m Aziraphale. I’m- Why I suppose I’m your step grandfather.” 

“Huh,” said one of the kids. They both continued eyeing the pair, slightly less apprehensively. 

“Anything else I need to know?” Crowley asked, glaring toward Madeline. 

“I might ask you the same, for that matter,” Aziraphale said to Crowley. “I suppose we’ve all had a bit of a shock tonight, haven’t we?” 

“Yes, alright, I didn’t tell you,” Crowley said. “Surely you can understand-” he glanced at the kids warily. “Dammit! Maddy, do they know?” 

Madeline took a deep breath. “There are some topics that I don’t feel it’s appropriate to burden kids with,” she said firmly. 

“Are you in the mob? I told you so, Marin! That’s why he disappeared before we were born.” 

“Right, fine, we’ll go with that,” Crowley muttered. “You, so you’re Marin, what’s the other one called?” 

“I’m Ash. Ashton.” 

“Right. Marin, Ashton, well it seems that I’m your long-lost mobster grandfather. This here is my husband Aziraphale and he runs a bookshop. Not a mafia bookshop, just a regular bookshop. We’ve been busy for… well, for ages now, but it seems that most of our… gang war… is pretty much over. Anyway, that was one of the things I wanted to tell your mother. All the fuss is over so no one will be bothering me, and thus no one potentially bothering you. Not that you’ve had any problems, because of course you would have called me right away if anyone had bothered you.” 

“Uhhh,” Madeline said urgently, glancing warily at the twins. “Dad. I did call you. I called you yesterday. That’s why you’re here. I have, in fact, heard from _them_. I called you for help.” 

“Fuck,” Crowley swore, sweeping his hand across his face. “Oh, well, that’s lovely. Wonderful. So much for that retirement. Ohhh, angel, I… you know, this doesn’t have to involve you.” 

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale said firmly. “Of course I’m here to assist if you and your family need help with your s- your former side. I’m not slinking away and leaving you to deal with this on your own!” He turned toward Madeline. Good lord, the woman was a cambion, he realized. Surely she knew, she must know her own power? She must be able to tempt people, perhaps manifest wings or snake form, maybe alter reality somewhat. He’d never seen a cambion before and even his vast book collection was fairly scarce on information about them. “Madeline, my dear, can you tell us what has happened?” 

“I guess you could say I’ve received a job offer,” she said. “They came here. Briefcase, contract. All this garbage about… temptations. I didn’t sign it!” she added quickly. She fidgeted nervously; obviously the visit by agents of Hell had been an upsetting experience. Crowley put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close in a protective hug. Aziraphale thought he’d been done with surprises but the tenderness of the paternal gesture shocked him again. Suddenly there was this whole side of Crowley that he’d never even seen. Flashes of it perhaps when he was nannying for Warlock, but this was different. 

“Do you think they know you’re mine particularly?” Crowley asked. 

“I can’t tell,” she said. “They didn’t mention your name.” 

“Look at her,” Aziraphale said. “It wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out for anyone that’s ever seen your corpor- seen you, darling.” Nestled against Crowley’s side, the resemblance was even stronger. They had the same nose, the same cheekbones, the same lanky figure - well, Maddy was half a foot shorter or so and a bit curvier, though not much. “Madeline, do forgive my rudeness, but how old are you?” She didn’t look to be much older than twenty surely, yet her children must be nearly teenagers. The maths made no sense. 

She was unfazed by the question. “I’m thirty.” 

“Well. Remarkably well preserved, you are.” Aziraphale said. 

“Seems to be one of the perks,” she agreed. “There are others.” 

“Yes, I did notice you trying to tempt me into leaving you alone earlier, now that you mention it,” Aziraphale said. He shot Crowley a look. “I suppose you’ve been instructed on how to do that, at least. It is rather your father’s specialty.” 

“She was doing it right. I taught her well. You’re just immune to temptation,” Crowley said. He glanced at the twins, whose faces were identical mirrors of confusion. This conversation must seem very odd. “Maddy, you need to tell them. Especially if there are problems. Keeping them in the dark isn’t doing them any favors.” 

She pulled away and dropped onto the sofa with a sigh. “It’s not fair to them,” she said, distressed. The children came nearer, and Marin draped on the back of the sofa behind her while Ash sat next to her and leaned against her shoulder. Crowley sat down on the other end of the sofa, while Aziraphale sat on a thickly padded rolling office chair. “I don’t want you two to have this big scary burden, I just want you to be kids.” 

“Mom, it’s New Jersey. I don’t even think having a mafia grandpa is that weird,” said Marin. 

“Did you murder anyone?” Ash asked. “Maybe that’s it. They probably don’t want to tell us about a murder. You know, it’s okay. We can deal with it.” 

“Is it the cops after you or the mob?” Marin asked. 

“Dummy, he just said he ended his turf war!” 

“Well someone’s after Mom!” 

“This is just ridiculous!” Crowley fumed. “You see, when you don’t tell them, they come up with this farfetched nonsense.” 

“I don’t want to fight with you,” she moaned. “My god, Dad, I haven’t seen you in sixteen years! I missed you! I had kids, you got married. I mean, can we just… be a family? Just… tonight? Tomorrow we’ll deal with all the crap?” 

Crowley shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, fine. Let’s, um. Let’s have a nice family chat.” He looked the children over, his gaze softening. “So, you two. Tell me about you.” 

**** 

Marin had fallen asleep perched along the back of the couch like a very large cat, and Ashton was leaning against Crowley’s arm and yawning by the time Maddy checked her watch. “Oh wow. We should go get some sleep. Listen, why don’t you guys come over tomorrow for brunch? We’ll get to the hard part of the conversation then. I promise.” 

“An’ you’re gonna tell us about Grandpa’s murders?” Ashton asked, punctuated by yawns. 

“Murders.” Crowley scoffed. “I’m going to murder a few dozen mimosas, is what.” 

“Ooh yes, bring champagne. I’ll do some avocado toast. Maybe a souffle.” 

“I do love a good souffle,” Aziraphale said hopefully. 

They went out the back door to a small private lot. There was a yellow Lamborghini convertible parked there, which the twins piled into the backseat of. 

“Nice ride,” Crowley said. 

Madeline smirked. “Yes, the guy who signed the title over to me had thought so too. Bet he’s still wondering about that.” 

Crowley grinned. “That’s m’girl,” he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

He and Aziraphale strolled back toward the B&B in silence. The angel took his arm as they walked, and there was something reassuring in that. In the rhythmic noise of their footsteps on the pavement, Crowley began to think. He’d been angry and hurt that Aziraphale had ever considered that he might have been having an affair - would they ever get past the whole ‘I distrust you because you’re a demon’ thing? But now he tried to put himself into the angel’s shoes. Maybe that was the most logical way to look at the limited view that Aziraphale had had of his activities lately. And he really needed to just bite the bullet and admit that not telling Aziraphale about his daughter was not cool. Yeah, okay, this was at least partly his fault. And he’d caused his angel such grief and worry. He patted Aziraphale’s hand where it was tucked in his elbow. 

“M’sorry about all this,” he said. “Should have told you. Should have told you about Maddy, if not then… now. Y’know? Should have… should have… lots of things.” 

“Yes, well. It’s alright now, isn’t it?” Aziraphale murmured. He tightened his grip. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t think there was any way there could be a positive outcome to this, but here we are! Parents! Grandparents!” His face lit up with a jolly smile. 

“Eeeuauuugh,” Crowley complained, making a face. “I’ve just about reconciled myself to parent, grandparent is…” 

“You’re how many thousand years old?” Aziraphale sniffed. “I think you’re plenty old enough.” 

“And she should never have had children! We know little enough about what a cambion is. Nothing at all about what those kids are.” 

“Nonsense. They seem perfectly normal. Once the demonic genetics are watered down a few generations, they’re virtually indistinguishable. If you were so worried about it, you probably shouldn’t have- not that I’m not very pleased that she exists, my dear, but really Crowley, what were you thinking, making a child with a human?” 

“I didn’t intend to!” he protested. “It was spring break in Atlantic City. I was in a casino- easiest work of my life, barely have to lift a finger to tempt them to gamble away their life savings, angel- and there were these nursing students. And her mum was… well she didn’t seem quite in the right place, not really a debaucherous weekend in the casino kind of girl. Completely immune to my temptations. We talked a lot over several bottles. Stuff happened. Oh, come on, don’t! Don’t get all jealous over her, Zira.” Aziraphale had stiffened and Crowley could feel the frown radiating through him. “We had a good time; I wasn’t in love with her,” Crowley said. “And it was so long ago. Haven’t exactly been celibate all these centuries of waiting for you, angel.” 

“I know, dearest. I’m sorry. It’s been a troubling day.” 

Crowley slowed his steps and leaned to press a kiss to his temple. “Let’s get back to our room and I’ll remind you...” His lips grazed Aziraphale’s curls and he inhaled. “Remind you who I really want. Who I love.” 

When they were safely ensconced in the pretty floral-papered bedroom once again, Crowley made good on his offer. He kissed Aziraphale and slowly peeled his clothes off, slinking around him in circles, running his hands over every bit of newly exposed skin. Aziraphale was trembling with arousal by the time Crowley finally laid him down in the bed. 

“Beautiful angel,” he murmured between kisses to Aziraphale’s neck and collarbone. “My love, my one and only, my husband. I love you. Love you so much Zira, so lovely, so good. What do you want me to do to you, angel?” 

“Take me in your mouth,” he said. Crowley had been grazing his lips over Aziraphale’s ribcage, teasing around his nipple, but he paused to look up at him and grin wickedly. 

“Love to,” he said, peppering his kisses more quickly down Aziraphale’s torso. He flicked his tongue in swirls around the soft flesh of his tummy, alternating that with sucking gently on spots here and there. Just over his hip, he bit in, just a quick nip that made the angel squirm beneath him. Then he flicked his tongue soothingly over the spot. 

“Please, Crowley,” he whimpered. “Oh, my darling.” He threaded a hand through Crowley’s hair, gently tugging him toward where he most wanted him. Crowley gave in easily, utterly weakened by the pleading, and he wrapped his lips around Aziraphale’s cock and sucked him in. Aziraphale cried out and tightened one fist in the bedsheets, the other in Crowley’s hair. Oh yes, this was how he wanted it. Zira spread out before him like a feast, so open and wanting and not afraid to demand and to take. Crowley felt his own arousal throb ever more strongly as the angel pulled and steered his head and canted his hips up to meet him. Unable to hold off any longer, Crowley began stroking himself in time. When, some minutes later, Aziraphale’s whimpers became more frantic and he tugged harder at Crowley’s hair, Crowley hastened his movements, and with a groan he spilled into his hand as the angel came while moaning “mine, mine, oh my Crowley, all mine, my love!” 

Crowley swallowed quickly as Aziraphale pulled him up for a desperate kiss. They kissed and murmured love and apologies until Crowley drifted off to sleep, cuddled into his angel’s side. 

* 

They rose and dressed early and strolled to the little local liquor store to find champagne and wine to bring to the brunch. After a lengthy critique of everything on the shelves, they finally selected a few suitable bottles and began the walk toward Madeline’s house. The sun was creeping up the sky, well past sunrise, but the sky looked rather gray and gloomy. “Gonna storm soon,” Crowley muttered, gazing out across the choppy waves. 

Madeline’s house was rather a long walk away, and Aziraphale was muttering traitorously about calling a cab by the time they finally reached it. It was a large, modern looking mishmash of shapes, set far back from the road at the end of a long driveway. Hedges and trees surrounded the property. 

“It’s a bit posh,” Aziraphale said. “Is she wealthy?” 

“I expect so,” Crowley said. “What I didn’t provide for, she’s likely figured out on her own.” He stepped forward and rang the bell, setting off a series of chimes inside. 

No one came to open the door, and Crowley tried again. 

“She’s probably preparing food. Perhaps we should just go in,” Aziraphale suggested. “We are family, after all.” 

Crowley waved his hand to magic the lock open, but it was already unlocked. He pushed the door open and peered inside. “Halloooo? Anyone home?” 

“Let’s find the kitchen,” Aziraphale said. 

They walked through the foyer and toward the rear of the house. “Helloooo?” Crowley called again. This time, they could hear a faint muffled sound to the left. They ducked down that branch of the hallway and into a sleekly polished dining room, with light gray walls and dark wooden furniture and filmy gray curtains over tall windows. Neither had time to appreciate the decor however, because sitting in front of them were the twins, each bound to one of the high backed wooden chairs, with their hands secured behind them and their mouths gagged. Each of them moved to free a child. 

“Where’s your mother?” Crowley demanded. 

“Gone, she’s gone. They took her,” sobbed the kid. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time!

The phone call had shocked Crowley. It had come out of the blue, a year since his visit to the United States. He’d nearly forgotten about the fling with the lovely American woman, to be honest. Back in Aziraphale’s shadow, it was easy to forget every lover he’d ever had. They were only ever a bit of fun to distract him from the constant heartache of loving the angel, after all. So he hadn’t given the nursing student much thought, had almost forgotten that he’d given her his telephone number during their few days together. 

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” she said. “I thought maybe… well I know you have a busy lifestyle and maybe you wouldn’t want this in your life. But then… I’m starting to think that that was the wrong decision, and I need to tell you and leave it up to you how you want to proceed.” 

After he’d gotten over the initial shock and regained power of speech, Crowley had been gentle and kind. He suspected that the financial aspect was a good portion of her decision making process, and he volunteered that he would be seeing to that just as soon as he could get it into the post. The relief in her voice confirmed that for him. He made sure to overcompensate, as though that could mitigate the guilt that he felt over both leaving a human woman to struggle as a single mother and having created a supernatural creature that had only existed in myth, as far as he knew. 

Crowley went to visit his daughter a few times in her early years. She’d been first a chubby, squawling little thing wriggling in a blanket, though she’d soothed well enough when he held her and whispered a hellish lullaby in her ear. Then on the next visit, she’d been nearly two and he’d taken her to a harvest festival at a farm, where they’d petted animals (she’d had more success with that than he had) and eaten hot dogs and popcorn and candy apples (no one had told him not to give these things to toddlers) and he’d let her ride on the back of a sheep - that one he knew was probably wrong but a miracle kept her upright and she loved it. Afterward, as he carried her in his arms and they strolled toward the muddy pigpen so she could feed the “oinks”, he learned another thing about toddlers - they were grabby. In an instant, his sunglasses were in her fist, waving around in the air and she was laughing. 

“Shit!” Crowley exclaimed. A quick glance around - no, no one had seen. Only Maddy. She patted his cheek with her free hand and looked into his eyes, and then she giggled. “Eyes,” she said, staring into them curiously. 

“You wanted to see my eyes, hmm?” he said, extracting the sunglasses from her fist. “Well, you’ve seen them, but now they must go away, sweetheart.” He replaced his glasses. She fussed for a bit, but then he set her down in front of the pigpen and gave her a big handful of corn to feed them, and she was distracted again. He was more careful after that. 

He’d come another time just after she started kindergarten, and he’d listen to her talk for hours - Satan, could the child talk now! But Crowley had loved it more than he cared to admit to himself, loved hearing about everything that went through her head. Of course, he told himself that he had to monitor the situation, didn’t he? He’d fucked up, truth be told, creating a cambion, and now it was time for him to man up- er, demon up- and make sure she was raised properly and could manage whatever powers she ended up developing. Making sure that her mother had plenty of money with which to care for her had been the easy part, but he probably shouldn’t shirk his other role in this. And he found himself enjoying it more and more. 

“...and at snack time, we got a cookie and a cup of fishy crackers, and milk,” she said, scribbling furiously with a green crayon on the grassy area of her coloring page. “I wish I had two cookies though.” 

“Did you tell them to give you two cookies?” He picked up the purple crayon and started coloring the sun on the coloring page he’d been given. He’d already given the little boy drippy blood coming from his eyes and ears, and had colored the dog a putrescent vomitous green-yellow that didn’t even appear in the box of crayons. 

“No,” she said. “We just all get one cookie.” 

“My child,” Crowley said, freehand sketching some dead fish in the pond. “If you want something, you must convince people to give it to you. It’s not as hard as you think.” 

Maddy scrunched her face up thoughtfully, and they talked of other things. 

The next time he’d come to visit, Madeline was seven, nearly eight. She looked less like a baby now, more like a big kid. Scrawny but strong. Her red curls were in a half ponytail with a huge bow, and she wore a red and purple plaid dress, knee socks, and shiny black shoes. “Daddy!” she exclaimed joyously when he collected her at the door, and flew into his arms. 

“Oh! You’re missing teeth!” he said in surprise. “Did someone punch you? Did you make them bleed?” Maddy just laughed. 

“Silly Daddy. They fell out. Two last week. Left them for the tooth fairy and I got dollars!” 

“You sold your teeth to the fae?” He set her down and scrubbed his hand across his face. “Alright, shit, think, let’s think, what to do. Did you sign any contracts or was it a verbal agreement?” Crowley hadn’t thought that the fae were real, but leave it to them to be real and seek out his daughter’s demonic DNA for their mischief. He was already planning the best way to torture fairies, picturing their screams as he plucked their wings. “You didn’t eat their food, did you?” 

“Daddy, you’re being weird,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “You know I don’t really believe that. Tooth fairies are just your parents pretending. I just go along because Mommy does. And for the dollars.” 

“Oh. Right, of course.” Crowley didn’t quite think that he understood, but he was starting to think that it was just one of those human things. “Uh. So. Y’know, sweetheart… I think there’s something that we need to talk about, actually.” And that day he’d sat down with her in a huge grassy field at the park and explained to her who he really was, and by extension, who she really was. 

She hadn’t believed it at first. Of course, what sensible child would? He’d waited too long; waited until she lost the childhood belief in such stories. He’d had to prove it with a few demonic miracles. But at last she’d believed him. He was a demon, she was a cambion, and she’d likely develop powers that were something of a muted version of his. 

“I’ve never actually seen a cambion before you,” he said. “I don’t know of any, except in old, vague whisperings. So it would seem that we’re going to learn together how it all works.” 

He’d had her try a few things then. She couldn’t miracle anything into existence, nor even move objects around, the simplest of miracles that Crowley himself could do. She couldn’t turn into a snake, and she’d been very disappointed about that. She couldn’t summon hellfire at her fingertips. And she certainly couldn’t stop time. 

“Have you ever been into a church?” he asked. 

“Yeah, sure. I was a flower girl in Aunt Kathy’s wedding last year and I got to throw flowers all over the floor and stay up late and dance and eat cake and then me and Sarah and Kyle snuck upstairs to the churchy part when all the grownups were doing stupid slow dances and we drew pictures in the big Bible up front and then I hid so only Sarah and Kyle got caught.” 

Crowley grinned. “You make me proud, kiddo. So… I take it that it didn’t hurt your feet to walk in the church?” 

“Nah. My shoes were kinda pinchy but I took them off and then it was fine.” 

“Holy water? Have you ever touched holy water?” He shuddered, only realizing too late that she could have been affected by it, never even knowing that there was the potential of danger. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Well, just in case, see that you stay away from it. I mean it! Unbelievably dangerous stuff.” 

They’d spent the rest of the afternoon hiking the trails around the park as Crowley told her everything he could think of that would be important for her to know. Especially what to watch out for should Hell come looking for her. He had her memorize his telephone number, and then, after a lengthy internal debate, he’d given her the bookshop telephone number as well. 

“If you can’t get through to me and you need help, Aziraphale will, I believe, do whatever he can to protect you.” He wasn’t sure whether he believed that or not, quite honestly. That would really be stretching the bounds of the Arrangement, asking the angel to protect a half-demon child. But in a worst case scenario, Aziraphale would be her best hope. “He’s an angel, but he’s not like all the rest of them. No, he’s so much better. Clever, and resourceful, and, well, quite a lot of fun really. Just don’t ever tell him I said that.” 

Madeline nodded. She’d never seen her dad go on so effluviously about anything, never seen this look on his face. “He sounds very special.” 

“He’s certainly one of a kind,” Crowley mused. He seemed suddenly sad, and Maddy changed the subject. 

* 

It was a rainy spring day. The third day of rain in a row; most of the world was muddy and gray, though at least it was not a chilly rain. Inside the boring chain restaurant with its sticky plastic booths and too-bright decor, the heat was still on “winter” settings and it was warm. But that suited them just fine, being rather cold blooded creatures, one of whom was eating ice cream. 

Crowley leaned back against the seat. The drink in his hand had been ordered as an iced tea, but it was definitely scotch now. He watched the girl chase globs of chocolate sauce and pulverized candies around the dish of melting ice cream with her spoon. “Is that stuff that good?” he asked. Her enthusiasm for desserts rivaled Aziraphale’s, though the angel’s table manners were decidedly more refined. 

Madeline stuck the spoon in her mouth and nodded. There was a ring of ice cream around her lips, and after she pulled the spoon out, she wiped her sleeve across it. 

“Yeah, it’s my favorite. Well, my favorite here, anyway. If we were down the shore, I’d get rocky road. There’s this place on the boardwalk that Mom took me to last summer and they made it there and it was awesome!” she burbled. Her hair was held back in a scrunchy, the curls all a frizzy mess. Fourteen now, she was all awkward, long limbs that she’d not yet grown accustomed to. 

Crowley had last visited her a year ago or so and she’d been about a foot shorter, he thought. That day, they’d gone to a park and he’d presented her with new rollerblades, which he’d tried to teach her to use her infernal powers to control. “‘S how I drive my car,” he said. But she’d found herself frustratingly unable to access any sort of power that let her manipulate objects, and she’d had to practice skating the normal way. 

“I want to drive a car,” she said as she struggled to keep upright, even with Crowley holding her hands tightly and walking backwards in front of her. “Daddy can we do that too? Will you teach me? Maybe I can do that the infernal way.” 

“I think you’re meant to be a bit older,” he said. “Maybe in a few years.” 

But it’d only been a year since then and fourteen was still too young for driving cars by human standards, and Crowley had pinpointed her current most fervent desire and prepared accordingly for today’s adventure. The ice cream was gone, and she’d finally wiped the last of the food off of her face with a napkin, and he waved his hand to take care of the bill. “Shall we?” he asked her. 

Madeline’s face fell. “We’re done already? I feel like you just got here.” 

“No! No, no, uh, not done yet. We’ve one more thing to do this evening. If you want.” He pulled a pair of tickets from his inner jacket pocket and dropped them on the table in front of her. Madeline picked them up and emitted a sudden shriek that made him nearly jump out of his skin. 

“Oh my god! Oh my god!-” 

“Young lady! Language!” 

“Sorry Dad- Oh my Satan, I can’t fucking believe you got us Justin Timberlake tickets! I’m gonna die! I’m actually gonna die!” 

“Well if you think it’s going to kill you, we’d probably best not-” he reached to pull the tickets out of her hand but she clutched them against her chest. 

“Oh hell no! We are going- shit, these are front row?! I think I’ve died and gone to-” Crowley raised an eyebrow at her pointedly and she amended- “well anyway I think I’m dreaming.” 

Crowley shook his head, bemused. “I’m glad you like them.” 

“Oh yes! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” And with that she launched herself out of her seat and hugged him fiercely. 

Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat. “Don’t mention it, kiddo,” he said roughly. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

At the concert venue, as they shuffled through the crowd, Maddy tugged his sleeve. “Merch table, Dad. Can I get a hoodie? Please?” 

“Yeah, sure, go get yourself one. I’ll wait here.” 

“I- I don’t have any money,” she said, tilting her head with a pleading look. 

“I’m sure you can manage something.” 

“You mean I should- you know, with the wiles?” 

“Yesss.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Go on, you can do this.” It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get her to tempt humans, but she’d always balked before. Of course, perhaps she wanted this thing badly enough to try it now. 

Madeline fidgeted for a moment before determinedly setting her shoulders back and walking up to the merch table. “Hello, I’d like a medium hoodie.” 

“Thirty five bucks, kid.” 

Madeline smirked and tapped her chin thoughtfully. What angle to use here? Figure out what they think that they want, Crowley had said. Get into their heads. “I’ll bet you don’t make enough money, working this job.” 

“What?” the guy said, bristling. 

“I’m serious! You sell hundreds of dollars worth of this stuff every hour, how much of that do you see? It’s downright unfair, isn’t it? And.. and the real kicker is.. You don’t make any more if you sell a lot or if you only sell a few, right?” She met his eyes. “They don’t even care how good you are at this. Would feel kind of… I dunno, kind of nice… knowing you got one over on the bastards, wouldn’t it? Help a kid out, feel like… like you’ve done a bit of good in the world!” Her lips curled into a half smile. “Just give me the hoodie.” 

Madeline’s magic was nowhere near as strong as Crowley’s, and in just a few minutes the merch booth employee would register that a redheaded kid had taken a hoodie without paying for it, but by then she was in her front row seat and the hood was covering her hair, not to mention the protective demonic aura around her as she snuggled against Crowley’s side and he draped an arm around her shoulder. “Good work, sweetheart,” he murmured. “‘M proud of you.” 

“I love you, Daddy,” she said. “You’re the best.” 

Crowley stiffened. This was never how it was supposed to go. He had only meant to do his duty, keep the kid safe, make sure she was well educated. He wasn’t supposed to get attached like this. But he couldn’t deny it, and it would be devastating to the kid if he withheld that, wouldn't it? “Love you too, Maddy.” 

After that visit, he decided that he needed to take some time off. She was well trained in her powers now, she knew how to contact him if she needed to, and he’d paid up his accounts with her mother to insure her human maintenance needs were met. A few years and maybe she wouldn’t be the emotional mess that adolescence brought and they could resume as adults a more distant relationship. 

But the years went by, another baby was handed over to him, and things got rather busy for Crowley. He was sure Madeline was out there just going about her life as an ordinary human woman, and she certainly didn’t need him coming around. So Crowley stayed away, until that phone call. 


	6. Chapter 6

Hastur was not happy. Beelzebub had demanded his presence rather abruptly, right when he was in the middle of something, something that he needed to keep secret for now. Of course, he’d not been successful in the task that Beelzebub had sent him to do, but if they’d only let him finish this thing, they’d see that it was really even better. Oh, how they would see. 

“Temptations are down 534% this quarter,” Beelzebub began with no preamble. They looked even more annoyed than usual, if such a thing were possible. 

“Ah, well, you see Lord Beelzebub, it is only myself, heh heh, so-” 

“Which is why you were sent on a recruitment mission. You were to seek out untapped Evil on Earth and recruit it to our Cause. More Tempters, Hastur. You either need to get us more Tempters, or do all the work yourself, which you obviously cannot keep up with. Now that you’ve utterly wasted your time, with nothing to show for it, you have a lot of catching up to do,” Beelzebub seethed. They started to stand up. That was never a good sign. Hastur panicked. 

“I- I tried! I did, I was so certain that Crowley would sign on; the freelance deal was so lucrative and- but-” 

“What?!” Beelzebub seethed. “How dare you say that name in my presence? You mean to tell me that you made contact? You fool! Imagine what he could do to us if you antagonized him!” The sycophants surrounding Beelzebub’s throne shuddered and murmured in terror. They’d been at Crowley’s trial and were certainly afraid of the possibilities. 

“Not antagonize. Bargain. It- it would have been good for him as well.” Hastur decided to leave out the part about the embarrassing way Crowley had turned him down and laughed at him. The shame and rage still simmered in him, and made what had happened next all the sweeter. “But then I moved on, when he didn’t... I began searching America for sources of evil. I think, ah, I think I have found something. Just give me a little more time.” 

Beelzebub sniffed. “I told you we don’t want that orange wanker with the tiny fists. That’s just disgusting.” 

"No, Lord. Something else.” 

“Very well. I’ll send more imps out for now. They’re the least efficient at temptation, I swear to Satan. Well trained evil humans would be better. You have three more days, Hastur. If you don’t deliver by then, you’re going to be very sorry indeed.” With a wave of their hand, he was dismissed. 

* 

It was cold and her head hurt. Madeline opened her eyes. She knew they opened; she felt her eyelids move, her eyelashes painfully separating, but everything remained just as dark. Whatever had been sticking them together was sticky down the side of her face, too. She was lying flat on her back, on something like stone or concrete, and it was slimy and cold. The back of her clothes and her hair felt wet with it. She sniffed. Sulfur and iron, maybe a hint of something more rank in the distance. She began to take stock of her injuries. 

Her toes wiggled, still in socks and shoes. Thank something she’d put on warm ones this morning when she went out to the garage to take the trash bag out. Her ankles wiggled, her legs, though there was something painful going on with her left knee and spreading upward across her thigh from there. Bruising only, she thought, nothing oozy there. 

Hands, that was a problem. They were tied together across her stomach, quite tight and she really couldn’t feel them or move them much. She couldn’t even coordinate her fingers to try to pick at the ropes. Well that was going to make this fucking difficult. 

Next she tried to move her arms about and immediately regretted that. As she rolled her left shoulder, pain shot from her elbow in both directions and did not stop. Pain bad enough that she couldn’t hold in the whimper. She breathed in shakily, trying to regain control of herself. She had no idea if anyone or anything was lurking in this dark place with her, but it seemed prudent to remain as quiet and still as possible while she gathered information. 

Right. Arm probably broken. Hands useless. Face probably bloody, there was a weird sensation just above her forehead in her hairline that was a clue as to where that was coming from. Lying in impossible dark on a cold hard floor stinking of sulfur. No matter how she twisted and turned it in her mind, there was no way it looked good for her. 

There was a scraping sound nearby, something heavy being pushed across the floor, and a sliver of light fell into the room, just across her legs. She struggled to try to sit up, to be ready for whatever, but she lacked the strength or coordination. The heavy tread of someone - three someones, she thought she counted - into the room and then there was a pair of nasty shoes and nasty trouser legs and the hem of a filthy trenchcoat beside her. 

“Ahh, well would you look at that! Our little princess is awakening,” said a smooth voice. She knew that voice. Hastur. He’d been the one who had cornered her last week and tried to talk her into signing his contract as an Independent Tempter. She hadn’t even needed to read the forms to know that “independent” was a stretch; she knew that if she signed that thing, Hell would own her. “Madeline. Little half-demon. You’ve been quite a- well quite a lot of work to get you here, young lady.” 

“Go fuck yourself,” she replied. A fuzzy memory was beginning to surface; he’d been the one who attacked her in her kitchen with a big metal pipe. She’d fended off several blows, catching it in the leg and then the arm instead, but he must’ve gotten her in the head after all. The twins had been screaming, fighting with other demons. Panic began to bubble up in her chest; what had happened to her children? She shoved it down inside; panicking would do no one any good right now. She couldn’t help them if she lost control of this situation. 

“Tisk tisk,” he said. “Your father should wash your mouth out.” 

“I’m a grown ass woman; my father has nothing to do with what I say or do,” she said. 

“Pity. If he had only taken me up on my generous offer, I never would have even found you. Because he turned it down, I had to go searching America for raw, untapped evil. Really just dumb luck that I found you; did you know that your evil is undetectable, hidden beneath your human aura until you’re really trying to use it? It was so fortunate that I was searching that area when you made that man who cut you off in traffic drive his car into a fire hydrant. And once I realized not only what you are, but who you are… well. I certainly have a bone to pick with Crowley. Next best thing would be to pick your bones.” 

“Oh, so that’s what this is. You’re just using me to get at him.” She scoffed. “You’re so stupid. As if he’d care.” 

Hastur leaned down over her and seized a handful of her hair and pulled her up. Madeline screamed hoarsely. Her scalp burned and a fresh trickle of blood ran down her face. Her broken arm was jostled, the dull ache spurred once again into sharp pain. She squeezed her eyes shut as Hastur dragged her close enough to whisper in her ear. “I’ll use you anyway.” He then released her, tossing her back onto the floor like a broken toy. “This is just.. Oh, how do you say? For funsies, now. Research. Deconstructing a cambion, perhaps I’ll write a textbook. I’ll have to go find another Tempter at some point, some evil human or somesuch, but in the meantime, I’ll go ahead and extract as much information from you as I can. Can hardly hurt. Well. Me, it can hardly hurt me. It can hurt you, of course.” He nudged her sharply in the ribs with the toe of his shoe. “But even so, if I could only get my hands on that snake, I would be too busy to bother with you for a good long time. And I hope someday he gets to find out what I did to his brat.” 

“Duke Hastur?” called a muffled voice from somewhere in the distance. One of his assistants. There was a scuffling sound, then a squelch and a scream; the idiots must be screwing around again. 

“I’m busy in here!” he huffed. He kicked Maddy in the side again, this time the fleshy bit below her ribs. 

“Yeah, that’ll be enough of that,” drawled a familiar voice. Maddy turned her head and could just make out the tall, lanky shape of Crowley standing in the doorway. He strolled in nonchalantly. “Maddy, it’s time to go home.” 

Hastur laughed, a thin reedy sound tinged with nervousness and mania. “You’re not going anywhere. Neither of you are going anywhere.” He moved toward Crowley, but Crowley ducked quickly, grabbing Hastur’s arm and twisting it around. Hastur let out an enraged shriek, and Crowley shoved him, hard, towards the opposite wall. Pieces of the plaster crumbled and there was a vaguely Hastur-shaped dent in the wall left behind as he slumped to the ground, stunned. Crowley turned to Maddy. 

“Come on kiddo, up and at ‘em,” he said anxiously. He reached for the restraints on her wrist, melting them away and mending the broken bone. “Up you go, sweetheart.” She stood up shakily, leaning heavily on his arm for support. But it was too late. Hastur had regained his footing, and worse, another half a dozen of his assistants flooded into the room. 

“You really don’t want to do this,” Crowley said, putting himself between Madeline and the demons. 

Hastur looked baffled. “Well of course I do. I want to hurt you, then I want to hurt her and make you watch, and then I want to hurt you some more. Why- why would I not want to do that?” 

“Look, if you just walk away now, and let us leave, then I won’t have to destroy you,” Crowley said. He sighed. “I really had hoped that you all would just leave me alone and it wouldn’t come to this. Beelzebub gave me their word. And yet here we are.” 

“Beelzebub was a fool to let you walk away that easily,” Hastur sneered. “And when I’ve destroyed you and dissected that thing, I’ll show them.” 

“Heh. Right,” Crowley snickered. Then he spun quickly and leaned down to whisper in Madeline’s ear. “There’s about to be a scuffle. In the confusion, you’re going to turn into a snake and slither out of here. Go right at the door, right at the next corridor, then left, small door on the right. Goes to Manhattan.” 

“But I can’t-” she hissed. 

“Yes you can,” Crowley said forcefully, and he tapped her on the forehead with two fingers. Madeline stumbled backward a step as she felt… something… a burst of something coursing through her. Dark, cold, scaley. She gasped, steadied herself, and waited. 

“What did you say to her?” Hastur demanded. “What was that?” 

“I scolded her for leaving me to do the washing up,” Crowley replied glibly. “No pocket money for you, young lady!” 

“You’re ridiculous!” Hastur said, and then lunged toward Crowley. The other demons followed suit. Crowley struggled and fought against them, but with six against one, it looked unlikely that he’d win. 

Madeline wanted desperately to jump into the struggle, but she knew that she would not be able to make much of a difference, and after only a moment’s hesitation, she concentrated on thinking snakey thoughts. She thought about slithering, about being small and sleek and scaley. “Be a snake, be a snake, just change, just do it,” she thought, over and over. Wasn’t that what she’d tried all those years ago as a kid? Just when she thought that Crowley had been mistaken, that she could not do this and perhaps she should go down fighting after all, she felt it begin to happen. She was lying on the floor again, trying to get used to _holy shit she was a snake._

Crowley made a painful wheezing sound as Hastur punched him in the stomach, and as he doubled over one of the demon assistants forced his wrists into the handcuffs. Madeline wanted to cry, wanted to bite and strangle all those nasty demons who dared to hurt her father, but she had to move quickly. She slithered out of the room, feeling very guilty and dejected. 


	7. Chapter 7

Crowley paced around the spacious kitchen as Aziraphale examined the ropes and gags that they’d just removed from the twins. Marin and Ashton sat on the cushioned wooden chairs in the sunny breakfast nook, looking very scared. Crowley had just questioned them for all the details they could supply about the attack, and was now muttering to himself. “Defintely Hastur. Sounds like Hastur, couldn’t be anyone else. What does he want with her, though? What use does he have for her as a captive? Signing her up to do the temptation gig, that makes sense. Kidnapping her doesn’t.” 

“Suppose they’re curious about how a cambion works. You say there really haven’t been others. They may simply be… gathering data.” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley shuddered. “I’m going down there after her.” Aziraphale flinched, but made no attempt to argue. “I have to, angel. I ha-” 

“Is someone going to tell us what the hell is going on?” Ashton said. 

“Hell is going on. Exactly that,” Crowley replied. He strode to the kitchen island and started rummaging through the drawers, tossing bits of silverware, gadgets, napkins, rubber bands, and takeout menus onto the butcher block surface. 

“You see. What we were all going to explain to you this morning is, well,” Aziraphale stood by the table, wringing his hands, his face crinkled with worry. “Crowley, your mother, and by extension yourselves… are... not exactly human.” 

Crowley had grown impatient and pulled an entire drawer out, the junkiest of them, and upended it all over the surface. He began digging through the pile of odd things. “I’m a demon,” he said. “Maddy’s a cambion, that’s just a fancy word for half demon, half human.” 

“What are we?” Marin asked, a sceptical eyebrow raised. 

“No idea,” Crowley said. “Probably mostly humany. Assuming your father is human- you know, I never thought to ask. Who he is. Where he is.” 

“We don’t talk about him,” Ashton said. “If you bring him up, Mom tends to…” 

“...not deal well,” Marin supplied. The kids exchanged a look. 

“Mmm,” Crowley said thoughtfully, his frown lines deepening. One problem at a time. 

“So you think those people took Mom to Hell? Actual Hell?” Marin said. “Demons? Were they demons?” 

“You’re demons too? So I guess… I mean you don’t seem very evil. And Mom’s not evil, I know that.” 

“It does tend to vary,” Crowley said. “Actually it doesn’t, come to think of it. Most of my lot are terrible.” He pulled a few objects from the pile and stuffed them in his pockets. “Got it. I think that should do. I’m off, then.” 

“Crowley,” said Aziraphale in a sudden panic. He seized Crowley’s arm and pulled him close, looking as though he might cry. “Oh, do be careful!” 

“I’m coming back to you, angel,” he promised. He leaned in for a kiss, quick and desperate and full of the promise of their future together. “Look after each other, all of you. And no fussing!” With that, he snatched Madeline’s car keys from the hook near the door and banged the screen door on the way out. 

“Well. I suppose there is a lot more I could tell you while we wait,” Aziraphale said brightly to the children, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He slipped off his coat and hung it near the door. “Now, give me a moment in this kitchen and we’ll get some sort of breakfast into you, hmm? I may not have much experience with human children, but I understand that food is important.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Aziraphale sat at the kitchen table and poured tea into three cups. On the opposite side of the table, Ash and Marin blinked at him with identical huge brown eyes. They looked so very scared and young. Crowley’s grandchildren, he thought to himself, still turning it over in his head in fascination. Certainly there was a subtle resemblance, in the nose shape, in the set of their eyes, perhaps their chins were a little similar. The children were soft, with big chipmunk cheeks and pudgy bellies, and that blunted the resemblance without Crowley’s sharp angles. But that sad, frightened look they were both giving him reminded him of Crowley, kneeling on the ground at Tadfield airbase, trying to bid him goodbye before they were both obliterated by Satan. 

He shook his head. It’d turned out alright then, and surely it would do so again. Even though this time, Crowley had charged off to go storm Hell alone, and Aziraphale was certain that he didn’t even have a plan, nevermind any sort of weapon. Well, he hadn’t had much then, either. At least Crowley was unlikely to encounter holy water this time. The worst they could do was… well, it was pretty bad even so, and Aziraphale’s hand shook, rattling the teapot, as he thought of it. He quickly put the pot down. 

“How do you take your tea?” he asked, in a pleasant and normal voice. He’d already served them plates of food, after some confusion in the unfamiliar kitchen, consisting of toast and scrambled eggs and some sort of strange bacon-shaped vegetable matter, which Marin had helpfully told him that he should fry and then supply them with large quantities of maple syrup to dip it in. 

“We don’t drink tea,” answered Ash, eyeing the teapot warily. 

“Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Why don’t we try sugar and cream?” He lifted the lid of the sugar bowl and began dropping sugar cubes into tea cups. “I find that tea is quite necessary in moments like this. It is both soothing and fortifying.” 

When he had fixed the cups and passed them over, Marin picked up the cup and tried a sip. Ashton poked the spoon into their cup, digging for the sugar dregs at the bottom. Neither spoke. 

“So why aren’t you and our grandfather evil, if all the other demons are?” Marin asked. 

“Well, ah. In fact, Crowley is undeniably evil, and your mother as well, a bit. You must understand that evil does not necessarily mean bad. Crowley is quite a good person. I believe that your mother seems to be, as well, from what I know of her thus far. As for myself, I’m not evil at all because I’m not a demon.” 

“Wait, you’re not? Are you human?” 

“Maybe Grandpa only _likes_ humans? Nana’s human and they… _liked_ each other...” Ashton trailed off, making a grossed-out face, which Marin echoed. 

“No, I’m afraid I’m not. I’m an angel.” 

Ashton’s spoon clattered into the cup. “Is this shit going to just keep getting weirder?” 

“You probably shouldn’t say shit in front of angels,” Marin said. 

Ashton kicked Marin’s ankle. “Mom doesn’t care if we swear.” 

“Yeah but-” 

“It’s alright, truly,” Aziraphale said, interrupting the argument. “My husband is a demon; I am accustomed to rather a lot.” 

The twins settled down after that, and the rest of the conversation went much more peacefully. They talked of all sorts of things. Aziraphale listened politely while they tried to explain their favorite video games. He told them the story of how he and Crowley had met, and a few of their adventures over the years. He found a fellow bibliophile in Marin, who had been working their way through Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters’ works since having caught a few movie adaptations early in the summer and going through a phase. 

“Come on, I’ll show you the library,” Marin offered, and Aziraphale lit up. They wound through the foyer and around the staircase, and through the glass doors there was a lovely little library, the bookshelves crammed with curios as well as books. It was far more skewed toward contemporary paperbacks and kids’ books, but Aziraphale was intrigued just the same. Once he’d gotten quite drawn into browsing, he pretended not to notice that the children wandered off down to the basement rec room to turn the video game machinery back on again; the distraction was probably good for them. He sat in a chair near the window, a cheap mystery thriller in his hands, and tried not to think about the fact that his husband was currently in Hell. 


	9. Chapter 9

Maddy thought bitterly, as she slithered through the narrow corridors of Hell, about how things that you think that you want when you’re a child aren’t as great as you thought they’d be once they actually happen. She'd always pictured slipping into serpent form as something you'd do on a sunny day in a nice meadow. Roll around through soft warm grass and dirt. Curl up on a warm rock and sleep. Stick your tongue out at things. Maybe eat a mouse - that part had always sounded gross, especially when she watched a snake at the zoo actually eating a mouse. She'd never asked Crowley if he ate mice; she didn't think she wanted to know. But now the idea was starting to sound kind of good. Squirmy, warm little mice. Ugh. 

Other than the dietary requirements, she’d always had a bit of snakey urges, she thought. She wanted all those things, maybe something deep in her DNA (or whatever it was that she was made up of) called to her. She’d longed for this power because she thought it would fulfil something about who she really was. But now, as she slithered through Hell, she regretted every moment that she’d ever wanted that. Being a snake, crawling on your belly, was gross and inconvenient and really kind of sucked. 

Somewhere in the distance she could hear tortured screams. She hoped it wasn't her father. Maddy slithered faster. That door had to be around here somewhere; she had to find Aziraphale, and quickly. He'd know what to do. 

There was a sliver of light, real light, ahead. A sliding door, like a garage door but the size for a Barbie Corvette. So tiny, but she supposed door size in Hell didn’t really matter much. It was open a crack and she slithered under the bottom. 

Maddy emerged in a cool, clean hallway. Well lit, quiet, plenty of oxygen, smelling slightly of floor polish. Definitely back on earth. Still, the tiles were cold on her scales. Seeing no reason not to, she began the shift back to her human form. 

She had a moment of fear that she'd not be able to figure it out, but it really was quite easy the second time around. Think about being human, want to shift, and the transition just… happened. She was relieved to find out that she got her clothes back. Less relieved that they were still tattered and dirty, as was her skin. Her dad had healed the worst of the wounds but there was so much. She had some resistance to things like wounds, illness, and aging due to her heritage, and she’d escaped a lot of things in her life that would have really messed up a human, so it had come as a shock that something could actually hurt her this badly. When demons roughed you up, they really committed. 

Battered and filthy, Madeline limped through the hallway until she found an elevator. No wonder it was so quiet, she was in the lowest basement floor of this building. She hit the lobby button and hoped for the best. 

The elevator doors pinged and opened upon a very posh atrium, filled with plants and sunlight, scattered plush seating areas, and a large fountain surrounded by sculptures. There was a stuffy looking doorman in the lobby who absolutely gaped at her, as did the extremely well dressed people milling about. "Miss?" sniffed the doorman as she ducked out the front door. "I believe you're in the wrong place." 

"Nah, I’m back on Earth, pretty sure" she said dismissively as she made for the front door. She stepped through the doors and looked up at the building curiously "I- oh my Sa-, was that Trump tower? Hah!" 

She glanced around the sidewalk and the curb in front of her. "I need a car. Car, need to get home. Ah!" The valet had just pulled up with a shiny red McLaren and was handing the keys to an impeccably dressed balding man. "Give me the keys, guys. I'll be taking that." 

"Get lost, skank!" replied the car owner, clutching his briefcase menacingly. Maddy rolled her eyes. She was really not at her most tempting at the moment but that was just uncalled for. 

"Okay, let's try it this way," she sighed. The guy had his hand on the door handle and was about to step in when she began the transition back to snake. Not a full transformation, just a sort of giant serpenty-person standing upright. "Boo? Hiss?" she added, not sure how much it took to frighten human men. 

It had been quite enough. The man, and the valet who'd been standing nearby, plus a couple at the curb, all screamed. The car owner and the valet scrambled backwards to get away, the former pissing himself for good measure. 

Madeline shrugged and climbed in the car. "Aw fuck, it's stick shift," she muttered. She'd never been very good at that. The driving instructor her mother had hired had wanted to add more lessons and expand that skill, but Maddy had refused. She'd always hoped that Crowley would come back someday and teach her. She really didn’t want to think about that right now. “You’d better. That angel husband of yours had better be able to rescue you, Daddy,” she muttered as the car lurched forward and made painful sounds. 

Somehow, she managed to get the car through the appropriate gears and roared off through the Holland Tunnel toward home. 

Madeline screeched into her driveway and barely managed to put the brake on the hapless sports car before she rushed toward the sliding glass door into the kitchen. Marin was standing in the kitchen and spotted her through the door and hurried to unlock it. 

"Mom! What did they do to you?" they said mournfully, taking in her appearance. Ash popped up from the other side of the counter, bag of pretzels and a jar of peanut butter in hand, eyes wide. Madeline exhaled the most relieved breath of her life. They were fine, they both looked absolutely fine. 

"I'll be fine, pumpkin. It looks way worse than it is. Where's Aziraphale?" 

"I'm here, my dear," he said, scurrying into the room and setting a book down on the counter hastily. "Oh you poor thing, do let me heal you." He reached towards her, waving a hand over first her head, then the horrible bruise on her knee, then other scrapes here and there. "Where's Crowley?" he asked, his calm voice barely concealing the worry. 

Madeline burst into tears and threw herself into the angel's arms. He patted her back awkwardly. "He couldn't get away. He told me to go, but I… I didn't know what to do, so…" she sniffled and then burst into a fresh round of sobs. “I listened, I don’t know why, I never should have left him.” She raised her teary face. “We have to save him, you must have an idea. Tell me what to do. I’ll go back with you, I’ll fight, I...” 

Aziraphale’s face crumbled, and Maddy felt her heart sink. She was so certain that Aziraphale would fix everything, and suddenly he looked just as lost as she felt. “Why yes, we must, but let us think first. This is what comes of him charging off without... oh dear, but, if only I hadn’t given that dratted sword back!” He patted her shoulders absently. “We must rally some support, first of all. I suppose I could… ring Anathema? She might have some insight. Oh, this is…” He took a deep breath. “Yes, I… let’s start there. Have you a telephone, my dear girl?” 

“Oh here, angel, you can use mine,” said Crowley, appearing in the doorway from the front hall. Everyone stared at him. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and held it toward Aziraphale with a cheesy grin. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, and he pulled away from Madeline to stride over to his husband. “Oh, my dearest!” He touched Crowley’s cheek, then clasped his hand for a quick fond squeeze. 

“Are you- what- Daddy?” Madeline stammered weakly. She stumbled a few steps towards a chair and sat down abruptly. “How-” 

“Ohhhh, I’m very good at getting out of situations. Just had to make sure you were safely squared away first, sweetheart.” 

“I was terrified for you!” she gasped. 

“Me too,” said Aziraphale, a trifle testily. “Even if only for a few moments, it was…” 

“I know, angel, believe me. I know that feeling well. I am sorry.” He held his sunglasses in his hand, and he and the angel held a lengthy conversation with just their eyes. 

“How did you get out?” Madeline asked. “They had you in handcuffs. There were seven of them!” 

“Nah, not so many. Not after they found the water balloons in my jacket. Most of them fled. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Aziraphale! They were just ordinary water balloons. But I knew that no one down there likes to think of me and water in the same sentence anymore. No, it was just Hastur and two of his stooges eventually.” 

“Still,” Aziraphale said. “He wouldn’t have let you go that easily.” 

“Nnng, well. It wasn’t all that difficult, really. A few trick birthday candles, a large bag of glitter, a packet of sparklers, and a handful of M-80s - Madeline, really, in your kitchen drawer? - ignited with hellfire frightens even Hastur, as it turns out.” He grinned, quite pleased with himself. Aziraphale couldn’t help but gaze fondly at his clever demon. “When the bomb went off and they were all covered in glitter, well, it was just enough time for me to slip out. And then I imagine he forgot to be frightened of me once Beelzebub found out what he’d been up to. Seems someone slipped Beez a note. Too busy getting called on the carpet to come looking for me.” He leaned against the counter. “You seem to have figured out the transformation, Maddy, good for you. Clever thing. I am going to need that back, though. Sorry.” He leaned his body over the counter even more, sagging into it. “Soon,” he added with a pained groan. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said. “What did you do?” He closed the distance between them and touched his shoulder. 

“Yes, alright, how do we undo this?” Maddy demanded, striding over to his other side. 

“You have to just- put it back to me, I don’t know how to tell you- you just- aaueeeghugh.” He slid farther down, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Aziraphale caught him under the armpits and eased him gently to sit on the floor, leaning his back against the cupboard door. “I gave her part of my form, I made her a snake, help her fix it, Zira,” he murmured. 

“You idiot!” Aziraphale hissed. Crowley moaned. “Madeline my dear, you must… you must find it inside yourself, those bits of his true form, picture yourself gathering up all those serpentine aspects, and then just - push it to him. It’s not a physical thing, oh dear this is so hard to explain! It’s on another plane of existence and probably one that you can’t readily access, and… oh goodness! You must do it quickly; he’s fracturing. Easy, my dearest.” Crowley shuddered against him. 

Madeline took a deep breath. She thought of what Crowley had done, in that dungeon in Hell, She thought about the sensations that had suddenly appeared, and pulled all of that together in what felt like a ball of cool, smooth scales. And then she took that imagined armful and slammed it at her father, shoving him hard with both palms against his chest. She thought surely she’d hit him hard enough to knock both him and the angel to the floor, but she found herself falling backwards instead, landing hard on her butt. 

She blinked. Aziraphale was crouched in front of her, a large black snake wrapped around him. “There, there,” he soothed, stroking the scales. “It’s quite alright, my love.” 

The twins approached cautiously, steering clear of Aziraphale and the snake, and knelt at Maddy’s side. “You good, Mommy?” Ashton asked, patting her shoulder. 

“Yes, just a little dinged up. Daddy… Aziraphale, can he hear me like this?” 

“Oh yes,” the angel said. “He can speak too, but I think he needs a moment. Some time to pull himself back together, as it were.” Crowley had burrowed his head under the angel’s waistcoat. “We’re really not meant to, ah, divide up our essence like that. Bit like having a limb reattached now, I suppose. Things need to... shift back together. He’ll be right as rain soon enough.” 

“Well uh. I’m going to go soak in a nice hot bath until I can’t smell sulfur anymore,” Maddy said, a wave of guilt washing over her. She trudged up the stairs tiredly, Ashton and Marin following her nervously. 


	10. Chapter 10

The master bathroom had a sunken tub done in colorful tilework, with a huge window overlooking the garden. A luxurious bath was one of Madeline’s favorite indulgences, and when she’d acquired this house in a rather masterful feat of temptation, this bath had quickly become one of her favorite features. Usually she was soaking away little daily stresses, which were indeed pretty minor in her life. This was the first time she’d taken to her tub to soak away the stench of hell and the feeling of being beaten by demons. She dropped in two bath bombs, a round purple one with bits of dried lavender buds in it, and a citrusy one shaped like an orange slice, and began to apply a rosewater and bergamot face mask. 

Marin and Ashton lounged around the room while she soaked. They didn’t seem to want to let her out of sight, and she couldn’t exactly blame them. Ashton sprawled out on the chaise in the corner, behind a tall fern. Marin sat on the little padded bench in front of the lighted vanity and played absently with Maddy’s makeup. 

“I suppose they explained things to you,” Madeline said. “What was going on, where- where I was. Who took me.” 

“Pretty much, I guess. Demons, huh,” said Ashton glumly. “We’re demons. Part demon. And you never told us.” 

“I just wanted you guys to have a normal life without all this,” she said. “Are you mad that I didn’t tell you before? It’s just... I thought this was all over. He was gone- he abandoned me, and… and then your… I wasn’t sure it was even real sometimes. Like what if… maybe I was suppressing some weird childhood thing, I don’t know. So we were just normal people.” She nudged her toe against the tap, shutting it off. 

“But Grandpa… before he stopped coming around, he told you? When you were a kid?” Marin asked. 

“Yes, that’s right. When I was a little girl, he told me that he was a demon, and he taught me how to do some... things.” 

“Shut. Up!” said Ashton, suddenly excited. “You can do demon magic? No way!” 

“But the thing is,” Marin continued irritably, turning around in their seat. “Like, I know you’ve always been mad that Grandpa just ghosted you, but at least he taught you important stuff. You just left us not knowing.” 

Maddy felt the words hit her chest like daggers. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said quietly. 

“Oof,” Ashton said, wincing. Marin just turned back around to face the mirror, their scowl deepening. Maddy sighed and sank down below the water to wash her hair. 

When Maddy emerged from the cooling bathwater, the twins had adjourned to the bedroom and were lying side by side across her bed, poking at their phones. She dressed quickly in a simple t-shirt and leggings and sat on the edge of the bed, patting Marin on the ankle. Marin sighed, but twisted around to meet her eye. They exchanged a glance of uneasy truce. 

“I kind of want to go downstairs and see how Dad’s doing,” Madeline said. 

“He turned into a snake,” Ash said, as if they were just remembering. They dropped their phone onto the bed. “A snake, Mom. A big effing snake. Did you know?” 

“Mmhm. I was a snake,” she said. “It’s weird. Don’t worry, I don’t think you guys will ever be snakes.” 

“I’m just gonna stay up here,” Marin said. “Text me if he’s not a snake anymore.” Ashton shrugged and laid back down on the bed next to Marin. 

Maddy found Crowley curled up on the loveseat in the parlor, swathed in all the blankets that had been in the room. He was human-shaped again, though he still had patches of scales on his cheeks, and his eyes were fully yellow. Aziraphale was crouched down at the liquor cabinet, shifting bottles around. 

“Oh! I hope you don’t mind, my dear. He fancies a drink after all that. As do I.” 

Maddy waved a hand. “Of course! Help yourselves; please, I want you both to feel at home here,” she said. 

She sat down at the other end of the loveseat, elbow propped up on the back. “Daddy, I... I need to thank you. You saved me, I...” She sniffled. “You really put yourself at risk for that, I know. I appreciate it.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat and studied Crowley’s face. He seemed to be trying to sink into the blankets. 

“Nnng, yeah, whatever. Couldn’t leave you there, could I?” His face twitched a little, a smile struggling to hold back. “Hell hasn’t done anything bad enough to deserve that.” 

Maddy groaned and nudged his thigh with her foot. “Shut up,” she protested cheerily. 

Aziraphale handed them each a tumbler with a few fingers of whiskey and sat in the nearby armchair. Maddy wondered if she’d stolen his seat, if he wanted to sit beside his husband, but he seemed content where he was. 

She couldn’t help but wonder about this marriage. He’d always spoken of Aziraphale fondly, so maybe she could have pieced things together, but it had certainly never seemed like they were involved romantically. They were technically enemies, he’d said. Only, he’d always gone on as if Aziraphale was his best friend and really the only being he could trust. So maybe it shouldn’t have been this much of a surprise. Especially seeing how Aziraphale seemed to dote on him. He set his drink down and leaned over to adjust Crowley’s blanket, which had slipped off his shoulder. 

“You’re okay now, though?” she asked. He still looked peaky, though the scales seemed to be fading. 

“Yeesss,” he said in an exasperated tone. “If everyone could stop hovering.” He leveled a look at Aziraphale. 

“Fat chance,” Aziraphale replied. “I’m afraid you’ve signed yourself up for an eternity of my hovering.” Crowley let out an overly dramatic pained groan. “In any case, he is all in one piece now, my dear girl. Which is quite an improvement over earlier.” 

“I’ll be fine if I just stay human-shaped for a few days and don’t try to do anything demonic, until everything settles into place.” 

“We think,” Aziraphale added. “It’s not as though there’s an instruction manual.” 

Crowley smirked. “Oh no, if there was a book I’m sure you’d have it, angel.” 

“Perhaps I’ll write it,” Aziraphale sassed back. “Care and Feeding of Your Demon Husband. Chapter 17 - On the Recovery Period After Ill-Advised Divisions of Essence.” 

Crowley’s face curled into an impressive scowl and he took a long swig from his glass. 

“Anyway, um. I’d like you guys to stay here. If you like. Do you think that you might like to stay for a while? Here in the house with us, I mean.” 

“Well, I had assumed that this holiday would last a few weeks,” Aziraphale mused. “Ms Device is keeping an eye on things at home for at least that long.” 

“It might be wise to stick close for a bit,” Crowley said. 

“You’re certain it won’t be an imposition, my dear?” Aziraphale said. 

“Nah, not at all. I’ve got plenty of room. The kids have school and I have certain things that I have to manage at the bar, so you’ll have a bit of time to fill on your own. But it would be lovely to have some time together as a family, now that the excitement is all over.” 

“There are a few odds and ends to clean up still,” Crowley said thoughtfully. 

“Well, you just sit there and conserve your strength, my love. I’ll manage all that,” Aziraphale said, leaning forward to pat his knee. Crowley just sulked. 

Madeline twitched a smile, and leaned over to kiss Crowley on the cheek before standing up. “I’ll drive you to your hotel to fetch your things,” she said to Aziraphale. She set down her untouched glass on the side table. 

“No need,” he said. With a flourish of his hand, their luggage sat in the foyer just inside the front door. “All sorted.” He looked adorably pleased with himself. 

“Um. Okay. Well, there’s also the matter of… I may have slightly stolen a sportscar and it’s still in my driveway.” She looked at Crowley sheepishly. 

“Stolen it? You couldn’t just tempt them out of it?” he groused. “Taught you better than that, could have sworn I did.” 

“Dad! I was not exactly at my best at the moment! I’d been a snake moments before and I was still covered in Hell slime!” 

“It’s quite alright,” Aziraphale said, patting her shoulder soothingly. He shot Crowley a dirty look. “Easy enough to fix. Don’t get yourself in a tizzy, dear girl.” He took a breath and closed his eyes and waved his hand around again in a flourish. “There we go. The car will be found in the shopping mall parking lot, utterly unscathed. No loss to the rightful owner, all is well.” 

“Meh. He was a douchebag; I would have sunk it in the ocean,” she said. Crowley snorted amused laughter. “But thank you, Aziraphale.” She put her arms around his neck and gave him a warm hug, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for the angel. After a moment, he put his arms gingerly around her and returned the hug before releasing her and pulling away. 

“Of course, my dear. Now, what else can I help you with?” 

“Nothing I think, unless you’re adept at bookkeeping.” 

“As a matter of fact…” he rubbed his hands together with a delighted grin. Crowley groaned. 

She chuckled. “I was kidding, I just- I need to go in, reconcile yesterday’s books, place some orders, make sure my manager is prepared for me to take some time off… I mean, did you really want to come with me? It’s going to be very boring.” 

“Go with her, angel,” Crowley said. “I’ll stay here with the kids.” A look passed between them, and Maddy realized that they were planning to watch over her and the children rather closely for the foreseeable future. She thought about pushing the issue, about insisting upon going alone, but she didn’t want to hurt Aziraphale’s feelings. 

“Text me if you want us to pick you up anything,” Maddy said, slipping on a pair of comfortable shoes. She usually dressed up rather stylish and sexy for work - there was a certain way that people expected a nightclub owner to look, after all. But today she hoped to be in and out of there before opening. 

She fetched her purse and her car keys from the shelf by the kitchen door where such things usually got dumped, then grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter as an afterthought, suddenly remembering that she’d never had a chance to eat anything today. Finally, Aziraphale appeared in the doorway and they went to her car. 

There was a moment of confusion as he tried to get in the driver’s seat, then shook his head. “Of course, wrong side,” he laughed and went around. “I say, er, Madeline my dear, did Crowley happen to teach you how to drive?” 

She sighed. “No, and that’s a sore subject.” 

“Oh, I am sorry! It’s just… well he’s rather the ‘speeding demon’, as they say. I’m sure this will be a pleasant change.” 

Madeline smirked, the very spitting image of her father, and threw the car into gear and roared out of the driveway. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale moaned, clutching the handle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we say to a few chapters of fluff, family bonding, necessary conversations, and maybe a little "alone time" for a certain angel and demon? Before we get back into the pain and fear and worry and angst? ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I disappear for a while, it's because I signed up for NaNo and I actually manage to stick with it this year. But I wanted to at least give you a bit more of this before I wander off. Wish me luck!

As it turned out, Aziraphale had been quite serious about helping with the books. Fortunately Maddy kept an old fashioned paper ledger book that reflected her actual take and expenses, and only entered it into the computer later on, in a slightly altered format. She didn’t mention the tax fraud to the angel; she knew that her father would be proud but she wasn’t sure where her stepfather would stand on that. 

It still felt weird to think of him as such, but as she introduced him to her manager it started to seem a little more real. Almost like a normal human, she thought. She could almost forget about all that crazy supernatural stuff and just feel like the only weirdness was that her silly old goth absentee dad had showed up out of the blue with an equally silly old stuffy bookworm of a husband. The appeal of pretending that they were all just humans was strong, but then she felt that stab of guilt over what that had done to her kids and her relationship with them, and she shook herself out of it. She typed in the orders for her suppliers and watched the angel, now bespectacled, bending over the books and doing the complex sums without benefit of a calculator. 

“Aziraphale, if you don’t mind my asking… how did you and my dad end up together, as a couple I mean? I thought that would be frowned upon. Doesn’t Heaven mind?” Hell clearly did, judging by the recent unpleasantness. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh, do they ever! Well my dear, you see that’s why it took us so long. That and other things, if I’m being honest. But after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell were quite put out with us both, after our, er, roles in that whole… fiasco. It became apparent to me- Crowley had already been there forever so long waiting for me to catch up, after all. Well, I did realize that he and I were on our own side, and it all crashed down upon me- I knew that I loved him, but I’d been so torn. I stopped being torn. It is him, always him.” He looked up at her, with a gentle smile. “Love of humanity and my love for God too, of course. Those are there too, but Crowley is my priority.” 

Madeline smiled at the warm fuzziness of Aziraphale’s devotion to her dad, but then like a needle scratching across a record, her brain rewound a few ticks. “What do you mean, the world didn’t end? Was it going to?” 

“Oh yes!” Aziraphale lit up and turned toward her. “Oh, didn’t he mention it? Yes. Well what a time we had stopping that!” And he gleefully launched into a recounting of the recent failed Apocalypse, with no small amount of gushing over how brave and clever and utterly dashing Crowley had been. It was endearing. Terrifying and unbelievable too, but she focused on the endearing part. 

* 

Crowley had dozed off in his cozy blanket nest. When he woke up, there were two identical faces peering at him. “Aaah!” he shouted. His sunglasses were missing and he was still trying to remember how to use his limbs. 

“Glad you’re human again,” Marin said. 

He scrunched his face up. “Euehhk. Never have been, never will be.” 

“Ugh, you know what I mean. You’re not a big snake.” 

“She doesn’t like snakes,” Ashton added. Crowley looked affronted. “Me, I like them okay, but-.” 

“I don't _dislike_ them,” Marin said, shooting Ashton a dirty look. “Sorry, Grandpa. I’m just scared. Even little bitty garden snakes.” 

“Weeellll that’s fair I s’pose. We’re not all ni- harmless. Though I have to say, snakes in general have a higher harmlessness rate than do demons. Or humans, for that matter.” He stretched and flexed his fingers thoughtfully. 

“Tell us more about being a demon. Aziraphale said that you tempt people to do bad things, but also he said that you’re not the bad kind of evil and that really, you’re kind of… well anyway he said some confusing things.” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He was extremely curious as to what Aziraphale had actually said about him, but he figured the kid had already said far more than they had intended and that was all he was getting. “Well, whatever he said was probably true, or else it was a gross exaggeration, or possibly it’s just one of those things that he and I don’t agree upon.” 

“Clear as mud,” said the kid standing behind his left shoulder. 

He glanced back and forth between the children. “Sorry, which one are you again? How on Earth does your mum tell you apart?” 

“I’m Marin. I’m the taller one, by an inch and a half.” 

“Well that’s likely to change. What are you, twelve?” 

“Almost thirteen.” 

“You should see how much your mother grew at that age. What if Ash grows and you don’t?” 

“That’s not the only difference. I have a pointier nose and crooked front teeth,” Ash said. “Getting braces soon; then it’ll be easy for a while.” 

“One of you should get different hair. Or, I don’t know, tattoos or piercings. Something.” 

Marin’s eyes lit up. “You should tell Mom that. I want my nose pierced, that’d be dope.” 

Crowley grinned and pulled his hand free of the blanket to snap his fingers. A little silver hoop appeared in Marin’s left nostril. They squeaked and touched it, then scrambled to the hall mirror to check it out. 

“Mom’s gonna lose her shit,” Ashton said. 

“Meh,” Crowley replied mulishly. “Well she can fuss at me all she likes. Faced off against Satan, Hell, and Heaven last month. I think I can handle my own daughter.” A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face so quickly that one could have almost missed it. “Now, have you any board games around here?” 


	12. Chapter 12

Madeline stepped out the back door and took a deep breath of the salt-scented air. It had gotten chillier just since they’d come inside; it seemed that the autumn weather was finally rolling in. Aziraphale followed behind her and shut the door securely. They got into the car and Maddy perched a pair of pink-framed plastic sunglasses on her nose against the glare of the setting sun in front of her. “We should stop at the supermarket before we go home,” she said. 

“I’ve never been to a supermarket,” Aziraphale said. “I have some little shops near mine that I enjoy, and then again, I never do need much. But of course, I shall accompany you to your supermarket and help with the shopping.” 

She grinned at him, the same toothy grin that Crowley gave when he was dragging Aziraphale off for some new adventure, and started the car. 

The parking lot was rather crowded, though Maddy showed somewhat more restraint in her driving and parking habits than did her father, and the other shoppers were spared. She parked without incident near a cart corral, and they wrestled a large shopping cart from the tangle and steered it towards the produce section. Aziraphale strolled by her side, hands clasped behind his back, and observed everything with cheerful wonderment. 

Madeline started choosing fruits and vegetables. “Is there anything in particular that you’d like? I suppose I should make a nice dinner, since we all missed out on brunch.” 

“I’m sure whatever you come up with will be lovely,” he said, though he grabbed a pineapple and a coconut and placed them in the cart. 

“Pina coladas!” Maddy exclaimed. She grabbed a bag of limes and one of lemons. “I wasn’t thinking about mixers. I don’t actually entertain at home much. What do you and Dad drink?” 

“Oh, ever so many things over the centuries. Depends on what’s local and in fashion, I suppose. Brown ale in Rome, sour beer in Gaul. Mead in Scandinavia. Some sort of odd spiced thing in Byzantium, with saffron and grapes and honey. Goodness, that was delicious! So you see, my dear, we are both quite happy to try all manner of drinks. In your profession, surely you must have some specialties? Perhaps you could make us whatever you’re proudest of.” 

Madeline laughed. “Not really. I’m a decent bartender, but my employees are far better than I am. That’s why I hire them.” She steered the cart toward the bakery department and began picking up various loaves of bread and squeezing them while Aziraphale watched with some puzzlement. 

“So what prompted you to open a drinking establishment?” he asked, picking up a pumpkin pie and sniffing it curiously through the box before placing it in the cart. 

“I worked there. When the babies were little, my mom insisted that I get a job. She wasn’t terribly thrilled with my life choices. Still isn’t, I guess, but we’ve mostly moved on from that. The money that Dad had sent - he was always good about providing for me all along, even if he didn’t always show up - well anyway, we were taken care of, but Mom had it all locked down. I was supposed to get as a trust fund at eighteen. But she decided that getting pregnant in high school meant that I was too irresponsible to have that. So I started waiting tables. 

That was when I, erm, re-taught myself that whole temptation thing. And I got good at it. And I... I tempted my boss to _give_ me the bar. He was retiring anyway, he was going to sell it, and I got him to sign it over to me for nothing.” She pushed the cart a little faster now, her eyes staring straight ahead, looking anywhere but at the angel. “And then I didn’t stop. The house, my cars, getting the kids into the best preschool, just everything. Everything I could, everything I wanted. I just kept getting better, and… and I guess it kinda got out of hand.” She glanced up at his face guiltily, then stared down at the floor. She felt quite miserable after picking at the scab of something that she didn’t typically think about very much. 

Aziraphale put the rye bread he’d been holding down and touched her arm gently. “Dear Madeline. Did you expect me to be horrified? As if I weren’t married to the original tempter himself? As if I haven’t engaged in a few temptations myself?” Madeline’s eyes widened and she lifted her face to stare at him. He continued. “Oh yes. Crowley and I have traded duties a time or two.” He patted her hand. “I suppose you may have taken it a bit too far, but you should also know that it’s not possible to tempt people into things that they don’t have an inkling of a desire to do to begin with. You cannot override their free will. You just… encourage some desires to override others.” He turned to examine the display of muffins. “Perhaps sometimes you have even tempted them into goodness. Charity, humility, that sort of thing. It’s not all as clear as some would have you believe. Right, wrong, good, evil. I’m not sure anyone quite knows what is what.” 

Maddy exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you, Aziraphale. I guess that’s been troubling me for a long time.” 

“Do put it out of your mind, dear. All you can do is move forward and do your best at every new opportunity that presents itself. Speaking of which, perhaps we can wheel over to the cheese department? I’d love to sample your American cheeses.” 

**** 

They walked into the kitchen laden with grocery bags to find the house quiet and still. After an exchanged look of concern, they quickly set the bags down and walked through the house. 

“Hello? We’re home!” Maddy called out cheerfully as she went into the parlor. The blanket pile was scrunched up in a corner of the sofa, with no Crowley in it, neither snake nor humanoid shape. 

“I believe they’re in the basement,” Aziraphale said, inclining his head toward the open door. Light spilled out from the stairway. Of course, from the basement they wouldn’t have heard them arrive. Very faintly, Maddy could hear the sound of something playing on the television. She relaxed. 

Aziraphale started down the stairs briskly and Maddy followed a few steps behind. She was on the middle step when the angel stopped suddenly at the bottom. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his hand fluttering to his chest. Madeline dashed down the last few steps and peered over his shoulder. 

The sound of Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” filled the air. She immediately recognized the brightly colored images on the TV screen as the dancing video game she and the kids often played together, though Maddy wasn’t sure she’d ever heard that song on it before; the kids usually picked the latest pop hits and she usually picked older hip hop. The kids were sitting on the beanbag chairs off to the side, watching as Crowley bounced around, doing his best to follow the motions of the animated figure on the TV screen. 

He’d rolled up the sleeves of his black silk shirt, and his boots were kicked off to the side. His score was abysmal, but that didn’t seem to be hampering his enthusiasm any as he twisted and shimmied and occasionally accidentally got the correct move. 

“You are supposed to be resting!” Aziraphale said crossly as he strode into the room, glaring from Crowley to the television. 

“I feel fine, angel,” Crowley huffed. He did not stop dancing. “You can have a go next.” 

“I certainly will not!” Aziraphale harrumphed. 

“Ash, Marin, how about if you come help me with the groceries?” Maddy said, eyeing her father, who was pointedly and stubbornly still dancing, while the angel crossed his arms and sulked nearby. “Put away the cold stuff before it- _Marin what the hell is on your face?_” The twins had been shuffling past her, Ash already halfway up the stairs, when she caught the glint of shining metal hanging on Marin’s nostril. She grabbed the child by the shoulders and turned them this way and that, staring in disbelief at the silver hoop. 

“Grandpa did it!” Marin exclaimed in a panic. Ashton continued creeping up the stairs slowly, wanting no part of whatever was about to come. 

“Oh, shove me under the bus, why don’t you?” Crowley grumbled as the last chords of the song faded and he moved to lean against the support post in the middle of the room. 

“You said you could handle Mom just fine,” Marin replied hotly. 

“Oh did he?” Madeline fumed. 

“Ngk- I just- Mads, y’know- look at how happy- you want them happy, yes?” 

Maddy let go of Marin and stepped toward Crowley. “It’s not about that. I should have been consulted, at least. I’m their mother! I want to be part of decisions involving them. You just completely disregarded me! Did you even think about how I would feel?” 

“Uuuhm. No?” Crowley said. “No, I suppose not.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

“Right,” Maddy said tightly, squaring up her shoulders. Her eyes hardened and a dispassionate look came over her face. “Well. Carry on then. I’m just- I’ll just be in the kitchen.” She glanced around and then went back up the stairs, mercifully holding back the tears until she’d gotten out of view. 


End file.
